


Ten of Swords

by sadomochi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dubious Consent, M/M, Masochism, Power Dynamics, Sith Anakin Skywalker, Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29239254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadomochi/pseuds/sadomochi
Summary: „Master...“ Anakin breathes to the marble floor. The drip, drip, drip of his blood hitting the ground is almost louder than his words. “H-help me...”
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68





	Ten of Swords

„Master...“ Anakin breathes to the marble floor. The drip, drip, drip of his blood hitting the ground is almost louder than his words. “H-help me...” 

His Master says nothing, just regards him with a gaze so sharp and piecing it comes close to outweighing the pain of the Kaleesh spear impaling Anakin. 

The weapon sits below Anakin's ribs, wedged clean through the soft part of his stomach to the side, shaking with each laboured breath he takes. 

Anakin wants nothing more that to fall forward, lay down on his stomach and bask in his own failure, the disappointment he has caused his Master. But that would push the spear through his body all the way and the fear of pain keeps him on trembling knees. 

“Rise, my apprentice, come here.” Obi-Wan finally speaks and a pained moan of relief escapes Anakin, relief at not being sent away. There is a chance for him to redeem himself. 

Anakin staggers on his knees, fights to stand up and when he tries to push himself up with his arm it sends a wave of pain through him that has him suppressing a howl in hopes of saving what little dignity he has left. 

Slowly Anakin limps closer to his Master, who is seated on a throne-like chair in their obsidian temple. Eyes of burning sulfur stare Anakin down on his way there while he pants like a wounded beast. 

Tears streak Anakin's face when he comes to stand before his Master. With quivering lips he pleads, “M-master, may I please...” his voice fades into nothing on the last syllable. 

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighs and Anakin collapses before his Master the instant the words leave his lips. He twitches and gasps in pain but doesn't dare to ask for help again. He is weak already, an absolute failure. 

“Forgive me, Master,” Anakin rasps instead, “please, I have failed.” 

“So you have, my apprentice. And you shall be punished accordingly.” Obi-Wan rises from his chair , getting down on one knee in front of Anakin. “For now,” he breathes, cupping Anakin's tear-stained cheek, “we will take care of this mess you made, my little imp.”

Anakin's sob echoes within the chamber, the contractions of his muscles caused by the crying send more sparks of pain up his spine. The spear moves with every hiccuping breath. 

“Thank y-you, Mmaster,” he stutters. He is near delirious with pain but also with the realization that his Master will probably forgive him. Anakin is not afraid of punishment. Punishment means forgiveness and that's what he craves. 

But right now is not punishment, Anakin's clouded mind realizes. Right now, Obi-Wan is touching him, gently, confusing Anakin's mind by blending affection with agony as Obi-Wan so often does. 

“Look at me, darling boy, do as I say.” Obi-Wan tilts Anakin's chin up, helping him obey. His other hand closes around the spear's handle. “Take a deep breath, in through your nose and hold, that's right. Release it when I say so. Now.” 

On the exhale, Obi-Wan pulls at the spear once, hard and Anakin shrieks. He can't help himself, he twists and turns away from Obi-Wan. The movement opens the wound up wider, ripping its edges and causing fresh blood to stream hot over Anakin's stomach. 

Over his panicked sobs he hears his Master. “Anakin, you came begging for my help and now you don't want it? We can have a droid pull that thing out as well if you'd prefer that.” 

“No! Master, no, I'm sorry. Please help me, I'll be good, I'll stay still.” Anakin is babbling, but that's fine, as long as his Master won't abandon him everything is good. Anakin is so grateful for his Master's help. 

“Very well,” Obi-Wan nods. “This weapon is pretty vicious, barbed along the blade so this will hurt much more than it does already, you understand, darling?” 

“Uh-hu.” Anakin nods. He can feel the light of consciousness dimming behind his eyes, vision blurring in and out. 

Obi-Wan's hand is in his hair then, pulling just firmly enough to bring him back. “Keep your eyes open, focus.” His tone is so harsh it brings fresh tears to Anakin's eyes. 

The spear is pulled again, digging and pulling at Anakin's insides. This time he doesn't scream but makes a drawn out, wrecked noise that has his Master's lips twitching to hide a smile. Anakin is being good, he hasn't moved and Obi-Wan likes his noises. It is Obi-Wan's right as Anakin's Master to control his pain, give and take it away as he sees fit, so Anakin should really be happy.

His Master's voice rips him out of his thoughts. “Look at me.” Anakin's jaw is grabbed hard and his drooping head wrenched upwards. “Don't close your eyes.” 

“S-sorry, Master,” Anakin slurs. He wants to be good so desperately but his lids are so heavy and the sting of his tears is burning bright. Obi-Wan's face flickers through Anakin's fluttering lashes. 

“I said keep your eyes open, little imp,” Obi-Wan growls and twists the spear. 

Anakin's wail is high-pitched and raspy, shameful maybe, but the fresh pain manages to rip his eyes open wide again. They keep rolling back in their sockets, streaming tears, but they are open. 

“That's a good boy,” Obi-Wan praises and it makes Anakin moan. 

“Thank you, thank you, Master! Please, ah!” The words spill out of Anakin's mouth like the blood out his wound. He doesn't know what he is asking for anymore, for his Master to stop the pain or give him more. Kneeling before his Master he is a shivering, cross-eyed wreck, utterly at Obi-Wan's mercy. 

“We're almost done, darling. Be a good boy now and brace yourself.” 

Obi-Wan yanks at the spear once more, dislodging the barbed tip with a sick squelch and tosses the weapon to the side. A gush of crimson spills out of Anakin as the blade is removed. 

Choked, high-pitched gasps are coming from Anakin. The boy is somehow still on his knees, seemingly waiting with chattering teeth for his Master's permission to pass out. 

“You're bleeding on the floor, darling.” 

Dumb with pain and relief Anakin looks down at the gaping wound in his stomach, then back up at Obi-Wan. 

“I'm sorry, Master,” he whispers, “I'll lick it up, let me-”

“Ah, ah, ah, my little imp, where is your mind going?” Obi-Wan cups Anakin's face in both hands, thumbs rubbing the edges of his eye sockets where the skin is thin. “Could it be that you're enjoying yourself? How rotten you are, my dearest.” 

One of Obi-Wan's hands wanders down Anakin's body to caress the oozing wound. When his fingers dip inside he can sense the pulsing vigor of the Dark Side emanating from Anakin's blood. 

“Answer me, do you like this?” Obi-Wan snaps, fingers burying deeper. 

The response comes as a pathetic whine before it warps into words. “Yes, M- master, ahh, I don't know, Master, please!” 

More, make it stop, I don't know. Anakin thinks his mind might be melting. All he knows is that his Master is inside of him, fingering his wound like a cunt and all he can do is feel while fighting to stay lucid. 

Obi-Wan's other hand leaves his face to feel between his legs then and Anakin gasps. What little color remained in Anakin's face has drained away, the blood rushing to harden his cock instead. It throbs away in sync with his rapidly beating heart. 

“You vile little creature. Are you really this broken? Enjoying the feeling of your Master's fingers fucking your filthy insides?” Obi-Wan's eyes are molten lava but his voice is ice. He rubs Anakin's cock through his robes, pace matching that of his fingers thrusting inside the wound. 

“I- I'm s-sorry, Master! Please, forgive me!” 

“How would you like my cock in there instead of my fingers? Stuff that dripping gash full again. You did whimper so beautifully while you were impaled, my darling boy.”

Anakin ruts like an animal against his Master's hands. The Force is thundering around him, praising his warped desires. This is how he should be, crazed with pain and pleasure, flayed open for his Master to pour the Dark inside of him.

His body uses the last of his strength to go rigid as he comes, sobbing and begging weakly for his Master all the way through before Anakin faints into a pool of his own blood.

**Author's Note:**

> I fucking love your axe wound you whore!! 
> 
> Thanks for reading. I'm only slightly sorry about this.


End file.
